


15 days of fero

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT, Bluff City au, COUNTER/weight au, Gen, M/M, Multi, background hella/adaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-12 20:11:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18017651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: 15 days of friends and the table aka 15 days of fero fics - multiple pairings, I'll tag as I go





	1. 6 March: Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, you know who I am.

When Fero left Rosemerrow for what he thought (or, hoped) would be the last time, it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get away. He’d stayed close the first few times which, really, was a mistake, the reminders of Rosemerrow prickling at him, making him want to go into the heart of the city and yell until people  _ understood, _ until they saw  _ sense _ . This time, he told himself, he’d go much further into the woods.

 

He paused as he reached the scattered houses on the outskirts of Rosemerrow. He didn’t look back, only closing his eyes for a moment to focus on the distant sound of the city before he let it fade from his mind. There wasn’t anything good there, and there certainly wasn’t anything for him.

 

People had told him, time and time again, that if he wanted to make something of himself in Rosemerrow he would have to be less loud, be less rude, be less fidgety, be  _ less _ . The forest didn’t ask that of him. In the forest he could be as loud and as honest and as fast-moving as he wanted to be.

 

He walked as far as he could before his legs shook, and then he curled himself in the roots of a large tree, pulled his blanket around himself, and fell asleep. 

 

Every day he walked further and further from Rosemerrow, and every day tried to leave more of himself behind, so Rosemerrow couldn’t find him in the forest. He would wake up and tell the tree he was under about Rosemerrow, and then he would take a deep breath, and let that knowledge go. Every time he paused in his journey, to study and animal or bird that was watching him, or to rest perched on a large rock, or to drink from a stream, he would leave more of Rosemerrow behind.

 

He had been telling the tales along with his meals, but the further he got into the woods, the less hungry he felt, until eating was something that slipped away from him along with stories of Rosemerrow etiquette.

 

By the time he reached what would become his cave home he barely had any tales left at all, or none that he remembered. He trailed his hands along the glittering walls of the cave. Here there was no customs to observe, no family to disappoint, no expectations on how he was to behave.

 

He could make new memories here. Better memories.


	2. 7 March: Boardwalk (Lem/Fero, Bluff City au)

Fero leant against the wall of the Bluff City Boardwalk Old Time Taffy Shop, making a face as he felt the paint flake off on his jacket. Lem was late, but Lem was always late, so he wasn’t overly concerned. What he  _ was _ concerned about was getting caught if Lem took too long to show up. He edged a heel against the backpack at his feet, reassuring himself that it was there.

 

Lem was  _ always  _ late, Fero reminded himself, so really by being late he was right on schedule, no need to worry. Not that he would have wasted his worry of someone like Lem King, obviously. That would be even dumber than taking the job in the first place had been.

 

Fero sighed. For someone who regularly tripped over his own words, Lem sure could be convincing when it came to job like this, for Fero at least. It was something in his eyes maybe. Or in the way he used his hands, or the softness of his lips...

 

Fero shook himself, peering around the corner, checking for any sign of Hadrian on his patrol route. He’d called in a favour with Ephrim to cause a delay, which Ephrim had been suspiciously happy to do. Fero sighed. He probably could have left it to chance and timed his meet up with Lem to happen during Ephrim post-dinner-rush break, and Ephrim would have distracted Hadrian all on his own  _ and _ he’d still owe Fero one.

 

Still. Better not to leave things to chance in Bluff City. Chance had an awful tendency to always come down on the side of the house.

 

At least he knew for sure he didn’t have to keep an eye out for Hella on an unofficial patrol route of some kind. It was Adaire’s day off, so Hella was sure to be distracted watching Adaire rather than trouble.  _ Not _ that what he was involved in was trouble. This was a business transaction. No trouble in that.

 

He heard hurried footsteps come around the corner before Lem tripped into the alley, flushed and hassled-looking, heading straight for Fero.

 

“Try not to look so purposeful,” said Fero, “You’re attracting attention.”

 

“Right,” said Lem, his hand fluttering as he spoke, “Right, I- sorry I’m late, I-”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” said Fero, “Listen, we better make this quick.”

 

Lem nodded, producing a yellowed envelope from inside his jacket and looking over his shoulder before passing it to Fero in the most exaggerated hiding-an-item-in you-palm gesture Fero had ever seen.

 

“Your stuff is here,” said Fero, nudging the bag towards Lem.

 

“Right! Ah, thanks,” said Lem.

 

He couched opening the bag to peer inside, shuffling the items around.

 

“They’re all there,” said Fero, “I might not be big into books but I got all the titles you had on that list.”

 

“I can see that,” said Lem. He looked up at Fero. “I know getting this stuff isn’t easy and that last time- well. I know last time had it’s… difficulties, and I- The Archive really appreciates your continued support”

 

“I don’t do it for the Archive,” said Fero, making a face, “I do it for you.”

 

Lem’s eyes widened a little. “Oh. Well, that’s- I appreciate it too, then.” He paused, biting his lip. “Fero, I-”

 

Another set of footsteps stomped down the boardwalk, steady and purposeful. Fero grabbed Lem’s shoulder with one hand and the backpack with the other.

 

Lem gave a surprised squeak. “What-”

 

“Shh!” said Fero, “It’s Hadrian, I think.”

 

He pushed the backpack roughly behind a trash can, pulling a bag on top of it and hoping that would be enough out of sight to not be noticed. What they could really use was some kind of distraction.

 

The footsteps got closer, thunking along the boardwalk towards them.

 

“Just go with me on this, okay?” said Fero, and hauled Lem close.

 

Lem seemed to get the idea, pressing Fero against the wall, cradling the back of Fero’s head. Fero tilted his body slightly, moving Lem so that his body created more of a barrier against the bag’s location, trying not to let himself get too distracted. He lost that particular fight as Lem kissed him, the way he always did when Lem pulled that particular trick.

 

A thin beam of torchlight swung into the alley.

 

“Hey!”

 

Fero leaned around Lem’s shoulder. “What seems to be the problem officer?”

 

“Detective,” said Hadrian, reflexively. He lowered the torch. “Got a call about someone skulking around in an alleyway.”

 

“Really?” said Fero, “Well, we haven’t seen anyone, have we?”

 

“I, ah, no?” said Lem. “It’s just us?”

 

Hadrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two  _ are _ the people skulking in the alleyway. Come on guys.”

 

Fero widened his eyes.  “ _ Oh _ ,  _ right _ , well, far be it for us to disturb the peace.”

 

Lem moved to pull back and Fero tightened his grip on the front of Lem’s shirt.

 

“Right,” said Hadrian, “Well, get a move on, the both of you.”

 

“Sure,” said Fero breezily, “We were getting to where we’d need to move to a warmer location anyway, right Lem?”

 

Lem’s blush would have been easy to see even without the torchlight. Fero grinned.

 

“But-” said Lem, his body leaning towards the backpack.

 

“You heard Officer Detective,” said Fero. He caught Lem’s hand, pulling him out towards the boardwalk. “Your place is  _ much _ more comfortable. We can always come back another time.”

 

“Don’t,” said Hadrian.

 

Fero laughed, pulling on Lem’s hand until they’d rounded the corner, stopping as soon as they were out of sight.

 

“But the books!” said Lem as soon as they’d stopped, “Fero-”

 

“Just wait, okay,” said Fero, “We give it like, two minutes, and then we go back and grab the bag, and they we’re home free.”

 

“Right,” said Lem, “And then we can go back to mine.”

 

“Yeah, we-” Fero stopped, blinking up at Lem. “Wait, why? What’s at your place?”

 

Lem’s blush was back. “I just- well, you said to Hadrian that… you know...And I just thought you meant…”

 

Fero could feel his own face warming. “Oh, that was just- but I mean, I have the time available. If you want to, or whatever.”

 

“I mean, if  _ you _ want to,” said Lem.

 

“Sure,” said Fero, trying not to speak too quickly. “I mean, yeah, that’d be okay. Let’s just grab the bag.”

 

“I thought you said to wait for two minutes?” said Lem.

 

“It’s been long enough and it’s freezing out here,” said Fero, “let’s go.”

 

Lem tangled their fingers together as they headed back to the alley. Fero was starting to feel warmer already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on more places


	3. 8 March: Drifting

The trip back from the Archives feels long. Safewater isn’t used to boats just yet, so Fero transforms into a what-if-a-crow-had-bat’s-wings-and-very-long-tail-feathers and flies with him, his claws skimming over the water before he tilts his wings to catch the stream of air to guide him up towards where Safewater’s soaring.

 

“You okay buddy?” says Fero.

 

_ Okay _ , says Safewater,  _ Far to go? _

 

Fero looks across the water. He can just barely see where the University tower is, a speck in the distance.

 

“Far,” says Fero, “another day, maybe? If you’re tired, we can rest on the boat.”

 

_ Not tired _ , says Safewater,  _ Excited. New place, safe place _ .

 

Fero swoops around him. “Yeah! New place safe place! Exactly!”

 

Safewater lets out a series of laughter-chirps.  _ You fly okay for a land creature _ .

 

“Thanks!” says Fero.

 

_ But not better than me _ , says Safewater.

 

Safewater drifts down a little, catching another air current and soaring up, away into the clear sky. Safewater must be better at air currents than he is, which makes sense, since he’s a bird all the time.

 

Fero caws his laughter and follows, chasing Safewater through the air, feeling as light as the air he’s drifting on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


	4. 9 March: Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers for up to SiH18

Fero frowned, looking at the area that used to be the site of The Outhouse, but was now just…  more of the river.

 

This was what  _ trying _ got you - absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, the destruction of any kind of something you’d tried to make.

 

Still. He’d promised Samol, and Fero had liked Samol enough to follow through, even if Samol wasn’t there to see it. Fero swallowed hard at the thought, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before he turned back towards land. Right. Time to find a new place.

 

He was poking around the edge of the forest (it would take more time to clear the area but he’d need the wood anyway) when a woman approached him, two children in tow. Fero nodded to her, his toes curling in the dirt. He recognised her - Tabitha Lately, she’d been a resident of the Outhouse, one of the first. A nervous sort, but so happy she and her children could live outside of the city, and at the time it had made Fero feel like all the hassle had been worth it. Now, under her still-worried gaze, he wasn’t so sure of the feeling.

 

“Morning,” said Tabitha, her voice a little hesitant, “Glad to see you’re back.”

 

Fero nodded. “Yeah, I, uh- listen. Sorry about-” he waved his hand towards the water, “-you know.”

 

“I can’t fault you for flooding,” said Tabitha, “At least we all got out alright, and we salvaged most of our things…”

 

“Good!” said Fero, “Great!”

 

Tabitha shifted her feet, resettling her son on her hip. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I just- I was wondering how rebuilding was going? We’ve been trying to stay in the University again, but…”

 

“Oh, no, yeah, I totally get it,” said Fero, “I mean, I’m gonna try to get something up as soon as I can, basically, but it might be a while, I mean, I’m a  _ great _ builder and everything but I’m still kind of just one guy.”

 

“Of course,” said Tabitha, “I’ll… please let me know if we can help? It’s… it’s been a while, since I built something, but I’m sure I remember enough to be of some use.”

 

“Oh yeah?” said Fero curiously, “What did you build?”

 

“Boats,” said Tabitha.

 

“Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense,” said Fero, “Ordenans love boats.”

 

Tabitha laughed. “I don’t know that we love them, but we certainly use a lot of them.” Her expression clouded. “Used a lot of them.”

 

“Right,” said Fero, “Well, I’ll… let you know? If I need help with a boat.”

  
  


The forest wasn’t really ideal for building, Fero decided. Even if he cleared out all the trees, the ground was pretty uneven, and there was heaps more of the Heat and the Dark plants around. The other side of the University was mostly farmland, so he probably wouldn’t be allowed to build there either.

 

It was a shame, thought Fero, that he couldn’t build on the water.

 

Wait.

  
  


Fero found Tabitha in the market, one of her children resting on her hip as she examined some apples. Her other children tugged at her skirt as Fero approached. 

 

“Hey,” said Fero, “So I think I need your help with a boat. A big one.”

 

Tabitha set down the apples she had been haggling over. “How big?”

 

Fero spread his arms as wide as possible. “Huge, as big as, as… well, as big as the Outhouse, ideally. Can boats be that big?”

 

“I… maybe.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I know someone, a captain I used to get work through. They might know.”

 

She led him to them, where they were resting in one of the University’s overcrowded rooms. They’re tall, their long limbs folded up to give someone else room to lie down on the bed they’re sitting on. Fero recognises their shirt as part of the Ordenan uniform. Hella had the same shirt, when he’d met her. They wore in the same way she had, their shoulders loose and relaxed under the weight of it.

 

Fero told them his plan, or, as much of a plan as he had in the moment. A big boat, as big as possible- unless, two boats would work better? He didn’t know much about boats, only that he didn’t like them but that they would probably be the most help here.

 

“Plus,” said Fero, coming to the end of his thought, “if we started to  _ really _ hate it here, then we could just sail somewhere else. I guess that is one good thing about boats.”

 

“There are plenty of good things about boats,” said the captain, “I suppose I don’t have much on, and it seems as though you could use someone who  _ did _ know a thing or two about boats.”

 

“Great!” said Fero.

 

“Who else do you have assisting?” asked the captain.

 

“Tabitha,” said Fero.

 

“And?”

 

“...me?” said Fero.

 

“We will probably need a few more people than that,” said the captain.

 

Fero thought for a moment. “Do they all need to be boat experts, or can they be normal?”

 

The captain raised their eyebrows.

 

Tabitha cleared her throat. “Knowing something about boat construction is probably just going to be a bonus? But really they’d just need to be able to learn to build things. Actually…”

 

The captain turned towards her. Tabitha flushed a little under their gaze.

 

“Well, it’s just that I was thinking. I’m sure the other people who were at the Outhouse would help, or most of them would. I mean, the sooner it’s built, the sooner we can have a real place to stay again.”

 

Fero nodded. “Yeah, I mean, that’s why I built it.”

 

The captain scratched their chin. “How many, do you think would help out?”

 

A lot, as it turned out. Everyone who’d lived in the Outhouse and more, once word spread to the Marielda refugees that this could give them a place to live, a place that wasn’t just a ramshackle tent. It was more people than Fero had been expecting. Normally it was a lot trickier to get people to go along with his ideas. 

 

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” said the captain.

 

“I'm working on it,” said Fero, “I was talking to some otters, and they reckon we could tie the whole thing in place with kelp, like- here-”

 

Fero sketched out a rough diagram of what he meant in the dirt, the wiggling lines of kelp tied tight to large platforms, a living anchor.

 

“Some otters told you this?”

 

“Yeah,” said Fero, “and I was sort of thinking, if the kelp doesn't work, I could try making a new plant. I haven't done that yet. Might be fun.”

 

“That is… a lot of options,” said the captain. They paused, turning to look back at the people working down the hill from where they stood, carry wood to and fro, their movements full of directed energy.

 

The captain crouched down to look more closely at what Fero had drawn. “I suppose something like this might work, although we would need to-” they drawn their hand back before they disturb Fero’s drawing, looking up at him. “May I?”

 

“Go ahead,” said Fero, “what did you have in mind?”

  
Maybe this whole  _ trying _ thing wasn’t so pointless after all.


	5. 10 March: Birds

Fero has turned into many, many things over his life. Even turning into  _ one  _ other creature would have been an amazing thing to have happen, especially now that he knows he can make his own creatures, but he’s been more than he can count. People ask him, sometimes, what his favourite has been. He likes to change up the answers, partly because it’s fun and partly because he doesn’t really have a favourite that’s easy to describe.

  
  


“A cougar,” he tells Hella, “You’re big, you’re strong, people are scared of you before you even do anything that scary- I mean, you probably feel like that all the time.”

 

Hella smirks. “Yeah, but I get why that’s fun.”

  
  


“A panther,” he tells Ephrim, spreading his arms like wings, “they’re like this huge black bird, with feathers the colour of that new cloak you got, and they can like, dive in the water.”

 

“Okay,” says Ephrim, “I guess that’s useful too, since we’re so close to the water now.”

  
  


“A wolf,” he tells Hadrian, mainly to see the sudden flush on Hadrian’s cheeks.

  
  


“A mouse,” he tells Adaire, “you can sneak in anywhere and no one ever spots you.”

 

Adaire nods. ‘That’s a more practical thought than I would have expected, but sure.”

  
  


“A rabbit,” he tells Throndir, “it’s peaceful, being a rabbit.”

 

“Not if you have to be one all the time,” says Throndir.

  
  


“A housecat,” he tells Lem.

 

“I can understand that,” says Lem, nodding, “there used to be this cat that would come into the library at the New Archives and- wait a minute, Fero, was that  _ you _ ?”

 

Fero laughs.

  
  


They’re all true, in a way, because he has loved every moment where he was able to turn into them. It’s as fun to be a huge cougar as it is to be a tiny mouse, and in the moment, he’s never really thinking about what he’d  _ prefer _ to turn into, only what would be the most  _ useful _ .

 

But there is something, he thinks, to turning into a flock of birds, of becoming a group consciousness of one halfling soaring over half a mile. It makes him feel more at peace than a rabbit, more powerful than a cougar, more satisfied than a housecat, to feel the air under a hundred wings at once and fill the air with sound, swirling where the wind takes him.


	6. 11 March: Fashion

“So I need your advice,” says Fero, hopping up on the bench beside Adaire. 

 

“Okay,” says Adaire, “with what?”

 

“I want to buy something,” says Fero. 

 

“Then… you should buy it?”

 

“No, I mean-” Fero makes a face. “I want to buy something  _ nice  _ for- uh. Doesn't matter. I want to get someone something nice, like clothes or something. A jacket maybe? People like jackets, right?”

 

Adaire looked at Fero, who was dressed in what was absolutely the same outfit he had been in the first time they'd met. 

 

“I suppose it's as good a time as any to update your wardrobe.”

 

“It's not for me! I- wait, what's wrong with my jacket?”

 

“Do you really want to know?” says Adaire.

 

Fero huffs a breath. “I- Whatever, I thought you were supposed to be good at this stuff. Can't you just like, tell me what to buy?”

 

“Who told you I was good at… whatever it is you're asking me?”

 

“Hella,” says Fero.

 

Adaire's hand flexes in her lap, her only outward reaction. 

 

“Well.” Adaire took a breath. “Well, I suppose I need to know what you want the item  _ for _ .”

 

Fero fidgeted in his seat. “Why?”

 

“Because a thing you buy for a fancy dinner is not the same as the thing you buy for a casual picnic.”

 

“I guess that makes sense,” says Fero, “it's… I want to get someone a thank you gift.”

 

Adaire raises her eyebrows. “A thank you gift. Okay. What do you want the gift to say?”

 

Fero wrinkles his nose. “I don't think I want a talking gift.”

 

“No, I mean-” Adaire let out a breath. “What do you want the gift to  _ symbolise _ . Like, when this person looks at it, do you want it to be like ‘thanks for dinner’, or ‘thanks for saving my life’, or…”

 

“Uh.” Fero looks down, swinging his legs back and forth for a moment. “Thanks for being on my side, I guess. Like, normally I have to argue for ages and ages, and this time we just did the plan I wanted to do because she- anyway. So. Advice?”

 

Adaire hums. “Something small, but meaningful is good. Like if you know there's a specific thing that’s a small treat for them that they don't really talk about but that you know they love, that's a good thank you gift.”

 

“Something small that's a treat…” says Fero thoughtfully. “Yeah… yeah, okay.” He hops down from the bench, taking a few steps away before he looked back. “Uh. Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” says Adaire. 

  
  


She always saves her bread roll ration to give to Hella. It’s no big loss to her, and Hella seems to really like it, so it’s… it’s whatever, she’s trying to keep Hella on her side, that’s all.

 

“Oh, thanks!” says Hella, smiling as always.

 

Instead of eating the bread immediately as she usually does, Hella carefully folds the roll inside a square or cloth and puts it in her bag. 

 

“I'm going to save this one for later,” says Hella, “I like, literally just had one.”

 

“Oh?” says Adaire. 

 

“Yeah, Fero came around with some,” says Hella, “It was pretty good bread too. Not that yours isn't good too, that's why I'm saving it, so I'll enjoy it more later.”

 

“Right,” says Adaire. She pauses for a moment. “Did Fero... say anything to you when he gave you the bread?”

 

“Not really,” says Hella, “Something about paying me back or something, I don't know, I don't really pay attention to favour stuff like that.”

 

“Right,” Adaire says again. “I'm sure it's nothing important.”


	7. 12 March: Blooming (Lem/Fero/Hella)

Fero doesn’t often come to morning meal times. He’s usually up well before most people, and also he doesn’t eat, so there’s not really much motivation for him to hang out with a bunch of grouchy people as they’re still waking up. Still, he’s supposed to help Hella and Lem today, and at least this way he can make sure Lem won’t be late.

 

He pokes Lem in the side, jolting him awake. Lem takes another bite of his porridge, still very much half-asleep. Hella frowns at them from across the table. Fero thinks she’s going to tell him to stop messing around and he has half a dozen excuses on the tip of his tongue for why annoying Lem into being awake is good, actually, but Hella’s question goes somewhere else entirely.

 

“Why do you have flowers in your hair?”

 

Fero frowns and pats the top of his head for a moment. “I do? Oh, yeah, I do. I kind of forgot they were there.”

 

“You forgot they were there?” says Hella, “How long have they been there?”

 

Fero screws up his face a little, thinking. “I dunno. Like, a couple years, maybe. They usually flower a bit later in the year, but I guess the Heat and the Dark is messing with their cycle.”

 

“A few  _ years _ ?” says Hella.

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, nodding, “probably. I mean, I didn’t really notice them until they started growing.”

 

“I thought they were just stuck in there,” says Hella, after a moment.

 

“They were,” says Fero, “that’s where they wanted to grow.” He pauses, looking at his murky reflection in his mug of tea. "I guess they like it there."

 

He keeps his eyes down, feeling Hella’s gaze heavy on him. He prods Lem again, half because he can tell Lem is falling back asleep again, and half to give himself something to do. Lem jolts upwards again, blinking at Hella.

 

“Right, yes,” says Lem, “Sorry, what?”

 

“Fero’s got flowers in his hair,” says Hella.

 

“Oh,” says Lem, “yes. They’re a rather nice colour, aren’t they?”

 

Hella hums in warm agreement.

 

This time, Fero keeps his head down to hide the flush in his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was imagining the flowers in Fero's hair were this little blue flower called 'Spring Starflower' (even though they grow from a bulb and not a seed).


	8. 13 March: Rejoice (Fero/Samol)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Annie, for the idea.

Fero sat cross-legged in a chair, slowly carving a what would eventually become a model of a sea squirrel. It was soothing, solitary work, something to fill the hours. It was working - he'd been at it for the better part of the afternoon.

 

He heard the back door creek open and shut, followed by Samol's familiar footsteps in the kitchen.

 

Fero grinned, bouncing up and down in his seat a little, joyous laughter bubbling in his chest at Samol's return. 

 

“You're back!”

 

“I'm back,” said Samol from the kitchen, the smile clear in his voice. 

 

“Kiss please!”

 

Samol laughed. “Quite the demand of a god.”

 

“Not really,” said Fero, “When the  _ god  _ gets something out of it too.”

 

“Well,” said Samol, his voice closer now, “I suppose you're not wrong about that.”

 

Samol leant his hip on the doorway behind Fero. Fero tilted his head back, looking at Samol upside down over the back of the chair. 

 

“Kiss please!”

 

Samol huffed a laugh. “Alright, alright.”

 

He stepped towards Fero, bending down to kiss Fero upside down, a chaste touching of the lips that nevertheless took Fero's breath away from the joy of it, of Samol being  _ home _ . He reached up to lay a hand on Samol’s shoulder, keeping Samol close for a little longer.

 

Fero grinned up at him as they broke apart. “Thanks!”

 

“No trouble at all,” said Samol, “sounded like a pretty urgent request.”

 

“Oh absolutely,” said Fero, keeping his expression serious for a moment before it melted back into a grin. “Welcome home by the way.”

 

Samol laughed, squeezing Fero's shoulder. “Good to be home.”


	9. 14 March: Strings (Fero/Samol)

“You just put your fingers here…and here,” said Samol, his voice low in Fero's ear. 

 

Fero shifted in Samol's lap, his arms stretching to angle his hands the way Samol was moving his. 

 

“There,” said Samol, pleased.

 

Fero smiled, feeling his cheeks flush. “Now what?”

 

“Now you move your hands like I showed you,” said Samol, “you and me are gonna play a song.”

 

Carefully, Fero moved his hand from one position to another, clumsily copying what Samol had shown him earlier, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he focused. Samol slowly strummed the guitar, his other hand warm on Fero's side. 

 

When he got to the end of what Samol has shown him, he started from the beginning, less clumsy in the movements than he had been the first time through. It was a slow version of a song Fero half-knew, the melody making him think of soft sunlight coming down through the leaves of a tall, old tree. 

 

“Told you it was easy,” said Samol, “any fool can learn guitar.”

 

Fero's fingers slipped. “I'm not a fool!”

 

“No,” said Samol, “You're not.”

 

Samol kissed the top of Fero's head and Fero's flush deepened. 

 

“Well. Okay,” said Fero. “As long as we're clear.”

 

He felt Samol's huff of laughter, Samol's chest bumping against his back. 

 

“Just how long  _ does  _ this song go on for anyway,” asked Fero. 

 

“Not too long,” said Samol, “but we've got a little more time with it yet.”


	10. 15 March: Pattern (Lem/Fero)

Lem stretched out along the ground, making himself as low as possible, grimacing as he felt twigs poke at him through the fabric of his clothing. He reached out his hand, making what he hoped was an encouraging noise at the squirrel. 

 

The squirrel blinked at him, it's nose twitching. 

 

“Come on,” said Lem softly, “come on, just a bit closer, I'm not going to hurt you, just a bit closer…”

 

Lem's hand twitched forward. The squirrel jumped backwards, skittering up the closest tree. Lem groaned, turning onto his back and scrubbing a hand over his face. 

 

“Stupid live patterns,” muttered Lem.

 

He let out a long breath, pushing himself back up and sighing as he picked up the small cage, still empty despite a morning spent chasing various animals around the forest. 

 

Lem took out a notebook, checking the pattern again. Unfortunately it was still the same as when he had last checked it, the list of small, difficult to catch animals written in his own scrawled handwriting. He sighed again, looking up at the tree the squirrel had dissapered into. 

 

“I was going to let you go you know! This is just for an exam, so if you could please come down…”

 

This did not, of course, convince the squirrel to emerge. 

 

“Typical,” said Lem, “I don't see why you can't spare an hour, it's not like squirrels have anywhere to… be. Hey there little guy.”

 

Another squirrel was watching him from the edge of the clearing, it's head tilted to the side as it watched him. Lem took a tentative step forward. The squirrel stayed where it was. 

 

Lem took a steadying breath, keeping his voice in as low and soothing of a tone as he could as he stepped slowly forwards. “Hey there, hi, just a little closer, no need to worry, don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you…”

 

He was close enough to hold out his hand now. The squirrel reached out, gripping his fingers with its tiny claws for a moment, almost as though they were shaking hands, before it hopped into his palm. 

 

“Oh,” said Lem. He swallowed.

 

The squirrel looked up at him, chittering.

 

“Well, ah.” Lem cleared his throat. “I certainly appreciate your time. Now I'll just-”

 

He reached for the cage with his other hand. The squirrel chittered loudly, climbing up his arm to perch on his shoulder. Lem tried to grab at it, and it scratched at him. 

 

“Ow! Okay! Alright! No cage!” said Lem, “but you have to stay there, I have a whole list.”

 

He brought out his notebook, making a small check mark next to  _ squirrel.  _ The squirrel peered down at the notebook. 

 

“Now a need a starling,” said Lem, “I suppose I'll need to go up to the cliffs for that.”

 

The squirrel chittered in his ear. Lem took this as agreement.

 

He sighed, heading towards the rocky cliffs where the starlings nested. They were easy to find, making an absolute racket as he got closer, although the noise didn't help him to catch them any easier. 

 

He tucked the squirrel in his top pocket. “Don't want you getting hurt while I deal with these blasted birds.”

 

The sun had arched overhead by the time he took a break, scratched and sweaty and no closer to catching a starling than when he'd been given his live pattern exam that morning. 

 

Lem groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I'm  _ never  _ going to pass this exam.”

 

Something in his pocket squawked.

 

Lem flinched, slowly reaching up to the pocket he'd put the squirrel in. Inside was a small starling, fluffing its wings under his gaze. 

 

“What,” said Lem faintly. 

 

The starling hopped up, gripping his finger like a branch. Lem stared at it. 

 

“Weren't… but I… Now hold on. What did you do with that squirrel?”

 

The starling fluttered to the ground in front of him. It hopped around a little and then something in it shifted, it's body warping and growing until it wasn't a starling or a squirrel, but a scruffy looking halfling. 

 

“Well I can't be  _ both, _ ” said the halfling, annoyed, “which animal do you  _ want _ ?”

 

“I- What?” Lem managed. 

 

“Which animal,” said the halfling, speaking slower, “do you want me to be?”

 

“I don't… how did you…” Lem shook himself. “Who  _ are  _ you? Why did you pretend to be an animal?”

 

“Fero,” said Fero, “and I didn't  _ pretend _ to be an animal, I  _ was  _ an animal.”

 

“But  _ why _ ?”

 

Fero shrugged. “I dunno. It seemed like you could use the help.”

 

“That's… a very strange way to help.”

 

“You're welcome.”

 

“I wasn't… never mind,” said Lem, “Listen, it was very… nice? Of you to help, but I actually need all of these animals at once, and they do need to be the  _ actual  _ animal it says on the list, otherwise the pattern won't work at all, so unless you can ask the animals to get into the cage-”

 

“Sure,” said Fero, “why didn't you just say that in the first place?”

 

“What?”

 

Fero turned away from him, making a screeching whistle towards the cliff. The starlings screeched back, the unbearable noise going back and forth for a few minutes before one fluttered down, looking at Lem curiously before it hopped into the cage. 

 

“There, easy,” said Fero, picking up the cage, “so that's one down. There's a squirrel nest close-by here, we can go ask them next.”

 

He set off down the hill, leaving Lem to scramble after him. 

 

“This is all very- I'm really supposed to do this part of the exam alone, you know,” said Lem. 

 

Fero looked up at him. “I mean, I can leave you to it.”

 

“No, no,” said Lem quickly, “I- you know, I'm not sure, now that I think about it, that it's in the rules that I  _ have  _ to do this part alone. It's certainly not part of the pattern.”

 

“Well there you go,” said Fero, “Now, I do have one question.”

 

“Oh?” said Lem.

 

“What's a pattern?”

 

“Oh, you know, a pattern, like, pattern magic?”

 

“Never heard of it,” said Fero.

 

“Oh!” said Lem, hands fluttering in the air as he spoke, “Well! It's a truly fascinating subject…”

 

(It wasn't, but Fero listened anyway.)


	11. 16 March: Clocks (C/w au)

Fero wasn't good at waiting, the way Samot seemed to be. Samot had an unhurried air, calmly telling Fero that time had only moved forwards by a few minutes since the last time Fero asked, even though Fero was certain it  _ must _ have been at  _ least _ half an hour.

 

Samot shot him a look, which Fero was delighted to ignore. Fero’s Divine, Samol, had known Samot as a young pilot and, although he hadn’t gone into it, Fero could feel how much Samol worried for him through their connection when they’d heard about this mission.

 

Still. That didn’t mean he had to be  _ polite  _ or  _ sit still _ . Samol knew him better than to ask  _ that _ of him.

 

“Time moves so  _ slowly _ on the ground,” said Fero, swinging his legs back and forth where he was balancing on the polished railing of the spaceport.

 

“Perhaps it does,” said Samot. He paused, his eyes sliding to Fero for a moment before he went back to watching the reception desk by the far spaceport doorway for any sign of their contact. “How long has it been, since you were planetside?”

 

Fero shrugged, adjusting his grip on the railing. “A while. Being a Candidate is a good excuse to not have to.”

 

“And you don’t find it… lonely?”

 

Fero frowned. “Why would I? I’m always with Samol.”

 

“I meant for other people.”

 

“Samol is people.”

 

Samot huffed a laugh. “He’s more than people.”

 

“Yeah, he’s better,” says Fero.

 

Samot smiled, his expression warmer than it had been. “Sometimes.”

 

Fero looked at Samot out of the corner of his eye. “You guys knew each other, right?”

 

“A long time ago. We- I was amongst a small number of test Candidates for Samol, although that was well before I was even considered for Candidacy of Erudition. It was a much more gentle introduction into Divines than most recieve, although back then I suppose we had more time to give instruction before experiencing battle…” Samot trailed off.

 

“I guess,” said Fero, ”I didn’t do much test stuff, but that’s probably because I sort of just walked into the cockpit when no one was looking and hung out in there for a while.”

 

Samot laughed, looking over at Fero. “I  _ did  _ hear about that, although I’m not quite sure that I believe it.”

 

“It’s true!” said Fero, waving an arm before quickly steadying himself. “I heard this voice in my head and so I went to find who it was, like, I didn’t even really realise that it was  _ Samol _ doing it at first, I thought it was just someone over a loudspeaker or something.”

 

Samot laughed again, leaning against the pole next to Fero, his posture more like the vacationers they’re pretending to be. “I can’t imagine anyone was too happy with a stowaway on a Divine.”

 

Fero laughed. “Yeah but Samol was. Or, I guess he was. We didn’t have a lot of time to talk after they found me, it was like-” Fero make a wooshing sound, lifting a hand to indicate flight. “-straight into battle and by the time we got back they were calling me Candidate, which is still so  _ weird _ .”

 

“You do get used to it.”

 

“ _ When _ ?”

 

Samot huffed a laugh, stilling as a figure emerged from the door to the right of the desk.

 

“Is that him?” said Fero.

 

“I- yes,” said Samot, sounding a little unsteady, “Yes, I suppose it must be.”

 

“ _ Finally _ ,” said Fero, “Come on.”

 

Samot followed behind him as the man headed towards the bar that would be their actual meeting point, a place where it would be far too loud to overhear them and far too crowded to be noticed.

 

“I didn’t expect  _ you _ to be the contact,” said Samot, as soon as they sat down.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to use a code phrase for this?” said Fero.

 

“I don’t need one for my husband,” said the man.

 

“ _ Ex _ husband,” said Samot, several emotions flickering over his face at once.

 

_ Now _ it made sense why Samol had been so insistent he go with Samot. Fero might not know him that well but  _ everyone _ knew about the two Candidates who’s Divine had split itself in half.

 

He’d sort of thought they were a myth, but here they were, sitting in front of him, shooting each other unreadable glances.

 

“Are you are?” said Samothes.

 

“His bodyguard,” said Fero, “You know how it is.”

 

Samothes’s eyes slid between Fero and Samot. “I’m not sure that I do.”

 

“Well you’re supposed to be smart,” said Fero, “You figure it out. I’m getting a drink.”

 

He slid out of the booth, taking his time getting to the bar. Fero wasn’t normally one for taking things slowly, but this way hopefully they’d get out whatever they needed to get out before they had to talk through business. He watched the old digital clock’s neon pink and green numbers tick over a few time before he started back towards the table.

 

He got about half way there before he stopped. Samot and Samothes were now sitting on the same side of the booth, very close together. So close, in fact, that Samot’s leg was draped over Samothes’s lap, Samothes’s hand tangling in Samot’s hair as he brought their lip together.

 

Well. Not  _ everything  _ moved slowly when you were planetside, apparently.

 

Fero took a deep breath, heading past the bar to the old arcade machine in the corner. It looked like he was going to have some time to kill. He wasn’t good at waiting, but if even half the rumors he’d heard about Samot and Samothes were true it was probably for the good of the known universe that he did.


	12. 17 March: Divine (Fero & Samol)

Samol is gone. Fero knows that, even if he wasn’t there for the funeral which is… which is fine. Totally fine. He got to say goodbye to Samol on his own, so he totally doesn’t care that he wasn’t there for that part of it.

 

Anyway, the point is, Samol is gone, and Fero knows that.

 

Except.

 

The tall, old tree on top of Samol’s grave  _ glows _ .

 

Not visibly. Fero’s pretty sure that no one else can see it, except maybe Kodiak, since Kodiak can always find him so easily in the pitch-black of night when he’s by the tree. But in his mind, the tree  _ glows _ , just as bright during the day than it is at night, if he looks at it the right way.

 

It should be disquieting, to look over to the hill from anywhere and see the light, but it’s more like gentle morning light than cold starlight or a blaze about to spark from a fire. He’s not sure what it means, or even if it means anything at all. Maybe it’s just light, some kind of residual energy leftover from an old god giving the tree a bit more life than it knows what to do with. If the tree notices, it doesn’t tell Fero, and he talks to it quite a bit.

 

For all his talking, Fero is very careful to not let himself imagine that he’s talking to Samol. The tree doesn’t have even half of Samol’s sense of humor, but it does have his steadiness. It feels, when Fero thinks about it, the way standing near Samol had felt, the way it felt to have Samol lay a hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring, telling him that the trying was the thing.

 

Fero closes his eyes, and leans back against the tree, and tells it all the ways he tried today. It might be his imagination, but it seems to glow a little brighter.


	13. 18 March: Transition (Fero/Samol)

The slide from being Fero: Citizen Of Rosemerrow to Fero: a hermit was less of a slide and more of a firm decision he made with every step he took away from the city. He would live on his own, away from everyone and everything, never needing or wanting or seeing a single other soul.

 

He was angry, when he left. He hadn’t really thought about the animals of the forest, and if he had, he probably would never have thought of them as replacements, of a sort, for the community he was leaving behind. It couldn’t really be considered a direct trade, after all, he liked the creatures of the forest far more than he’d ever liked the people of Rosemerrow. In fact, he liked them so much, he worked at it, and worked at it, and worked at it, until he could talk to them.

 

It was really just a side effect from that that he turned into them too. Not a hermit but a druid, even if he still kept himself away from other people.

 

He stayed a druid as a long, long time. Even when traveling with just Lem, with a ship full of drunk sailors or a handful of temporary Golden Lance deputies, and then, of course, alone again.

 

This time, as he marched away from a city in anger, there were no animals to find comfort with. It was far too cold for that, and it only grew colder as he headed into the Erasure. Gone, too, was the comfort of transformation. Or, not  _ gone _ , just gone until he could figure out a way to stop it going wrong, which would probably have to wait until  _ after _ he saved to the world, which he was going to have to do  _ by himself, as usual _ .

 

The Erasure was not what he was expecting. It was warmer, for one thing, the deep snowdrifts and icy wind fading at the edges of the stone towers, new plants growing slowly over old stone.

 

Also unexpected was Samol.

 

Samol, who patiently answered his questions without metaphor or demands of him. Samol, who walked with Fero rather than making Fero feel as though he were following Samol around. Samol, who talked when Fero wanted to talk, and sat with him when Fero didn’t feel like speaking at all.

 

Samol, who showed him the way to transform again without fear of harming an already-existing animal, and laughed with Fero in the joy of it.

 

There were other things that came with Samol too, some that Fero knew, and some he did not. Guidance, if he should have need of it, and a different way of healing, one that came more from the divine than nature. The abilities of a Cleric.

 

The only change Fero truly noticed was that when he awoke each morning, it was besides someone who wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see  _ them _ . As much as Fero sought change in all forms, seeing Samol’s smile each morning was enough to give him pause on seeking something new for the time being.

 

Perhaps this, he thought to himself sleepily as he curled under Samol’s wing, was the place and form he was supposed to be at last.


	14. 19 March: Embrace (Fero/Samol)

It feels strange to be surrounded by so many people after spending those years with Samol. He feels like he’s back in Velas for the first time after he’d gotten Lem away from the Archives, desperately trying to be heard over the noise of everyone else, aware of their eyes on him, their expectations pinning him down.

 

Ephrim and Throndir are the worst of it. The long years of winter have given them both a pinched, exhausted look, which makes their frustration at him easier to understand even if it doesn’t make it any less grating. Fero understands why they’d be so happy to have someone else share the burden of leadership. He just doesn’t understand why they think it has to be  _ him _ filling that role.

 

So when the weight of it gets to be too much, when Fero starts to feel like if someone even so much as  _ breathes _ in his direction with a sense of expectation he’s going to  _ scream _ , he heads back into the woods again.

 

Ephrim gives him a tired look as he heads out again, and Throndir mutters about how he’s  _ running away _ , but he’s not (he’s  _ not _ ). Not everyone can be like them, built to give orders and thrive within the stone walls of a city.

 

He finds a place close to their underground garden, where the plants are more warm and hopeful, and breathes in the quiet of the forest until the itch of irritation gets out from under his skin. He’s not sure how long that takes, hous, maybe. It doesn’t matter. They probably like him being gone as much as he does.

 

He flinches as something wraps around his wrist, his eyes flying open, nerves jumping at the sudden danger. It’s a thin vine, a snowpea, he thinks, growing at an alarming rate from a crack in the ground. Fero can hear the garden underneath, stretching up towards him, and he strains to listen, his heart pounding, but instead of the strange new plants  _ grow, consume, grow _ , there is a different sound, and familiar sound.

 

The sound of a guitar.

 

It’s quiet at first, under the humming of the vines, but it grows louder as more of the plants reach him. They curl around his ankles and snake around his waist and curl into his hair, surrounding Fero with the sweet smell of the approaching Spring and Samol’s guitar in his ears.

 

He relaxes back into the vines, feeling Samol’s presence in them as they curl more around him, welcoming him to rest.

 

Here, he is safe. Here, he is home.


	15. 20 March: Awake (Fero/Samol)

Samol wakes up.

 

This in itself is surprising. He wasn’t really expecting to do that anymore. He wasn’t really expecting to do much of  _ anything _ anymore. That was supposed to be the main aspect of being dead, or so he’d heard. The Heat and the Dark must be losing its touch.

 

Still, it takes him a little while to blink himself back into a broader awareness, feeling people walk this way and that on the land, feeling the new depths of water where land should be. Longer still to get a feel again for the beings doing the walking. He can feel their stories sinking slowly down towards him, patches of daily life and snippets of conversations.

 

After a while, when he’s feeling a little more like himself, that’s when he notices it - a thin string of connection, pulled taunt and straining. It’s not just connected  _ to _ him, it’s connected  _ around  _ him, a thin spiderweb pulling him back from the void. Samol plucks at it with his mind. The vibrations sound like familiar laughter.

 

Samol follows the feeling through the earth, slowly pulling himself into form outside the University. It’s looking a little worse for wear, but busier, more life in it than when he saw it last. He watches the changing shift of the guard in the early morning light, tired people greeting each other as they switch positions, before he heads up the hill, following the string. He’s close to the starting point of it now.

 

That starting point is Fero, curled, dozing, in the roots of the tree planted over Samol’s grave. In the morning light, Samol can see the spiderweb of string around him too. Samol’s powers are still fading back in, but he can feel that this is deep, old magic. As old as him, maybe older..

 

There’s a small bird in Fero’s nestled in Fero’s hair. It tilts it’s head, watching him curiously. Samol huffs a laugh. Only Fero would have a wren as a watchdog.

 

“I’m an old friend of Fero’s,” says Samol softly. He’s not entirely sure he wants to wake Fero just yet.

 

_ Friend _ ? chirps the wren.

 

Samol nods. “Been away awhile. Thought it was about time to visit.”

 

The wren hops down, jumping from Fero’s arm to his foot, giving Samol another tilted look. Samol crouches to be closer to the wren’s level. He holds out a hand, and the wren flutters up onto his finger, giving him another curious look. Knowledge of the wren’s name drifts out of it, with wisps of it’s travels with Fero. Samol smiles.

 

_ Away _ ?

 

Samol nods. “Not sure for how long. Doesn’t seem like it was too long ago, but time’s always been a little funny like that.”

 

“It’s been a couple months,” says Fero.

 

Samol looks up sharply. Fero is watching him with wide eyes, his fingers digging into the dirt as he sits up.

 

“Three months, five days, actually,” says Fero, “but who’s counting, you know?”

 

Safewater hop-flutters back towards Fero, perching on his knee.

 

_ Friend _ ? asks Safewater.

 

“Yeah,” says Fero, his voice cracking.

 

_ Good _ , says Safewater, and launches itself upwards, fluttering until it catches one air current and then another, drifting upwards.

 

“Are you…” Fero swallows. “Are you real?”

 

“I think so,” says Samol.

 

“How?” says Fero, “You said you-” he breaks off, taking a few quick breaths. “I mean, you said that was kind of  _ it _ .”

 

Samol moves forward, sitting next to Fero, leaning back against the tree. He looks up at the high branches. Quite a nice spot for a final resting place.

 

“Strangest thing - I took my last breath here, or, what was supposed to be my last breath, and then I find myself being the earth again.”

 

“I guess maybe you couldn’t disappear,” says Fero, “or the earth would.”

 

“I don’t think that’s it,” says Samol, “this place would have continued on without me just fine.” He pauses, watching Fero carefully. “Fero, do you know how I could find my way to you so easily?”

 

“Because I’m basically always in the same spot? And also you’re like, the god of everything?”

 

“No,” said Samol, “look.”

 

Fero made a face, looking around them. “Look at  _ what _ ?”

 

“ _ Look _ ,” said Samol, tugging on the web of strings in his mind.

 

Fero inhaled sharply. “Whoa, what- how’d you do that?”

 

“I didn’t,” said Samol.

 

“Then who did?” said Fero, plucking at the air around his body as though he could grasp hold of the web.

 

“You did,” said Samol.

 

“What, no I didn’t!”

 

“Who else,” said Samol, “who else but Fero Feritas would reach out and try to pull me back from death?”

 

“But I  _ didn’t _ ,” said Fero, “I mean, not that I’m not like, super glad you’re not dead but-”

 

“That you did it without meaning to isn’t so surprising,” said Samol, “after all, most of your magics started as something you did without thinking about it.”

 

“Bringing a god back from the dead is way different than turning into an animal though,” said Fero.

 

“But it comes from the same place,” said Samol.

 

“Oh yeah?” said Fero, “And what place is that?”

 

“A place of extreme stubbornness,” said Samol.

 

Fero blinked, and then grinned, a sharp burst of laughter spilling from him. Samol smiled.

 

“Stubbornness is one of the oldest magics there is,” said Samol, “and if it wasn’t stubbornness, then maybe it the other old magic.”

 

“Oh yeah?” said Fero, “what’s the other old magic?”

 

“Love,” said Samol.

 

Fero’s cheeky expression faltered, and Samol could feel his heatbeat fluttering through the strings.

 

“Right,” said Fero, “well, then, it uh. It’s definitely gotta be stubbornness.”

 

“Must be,” said Samol.

 

He could feel Fero fidgeting beside him, nervousness vibrating through the web. Samol shifted slightly, sending a wave of calm. Fero took a deep breath, and then slowly, tentatively, leant his head against Samol’s arm. Samol shifted again, lifting his arm to side it around Fero’s shoulders.

 

Fero took a shaking breath, turning to press his face against Samol’s side. His next breath was calmer, and Samol felt him shift as he looked up at Samol. Samol smiled down at him.

 

“I forgot to say,” said Fero, “welcome back.”

 

Samol laughed. “Thank you. It’s a nice surprise.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
